


Put your lips on mine (and love the aftertaste)

by to_new_mutiny



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VIII: The Last Jedi, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M, Slight pining, no rose bashing, screw you rian johnson they're gay you coward, very mild character injury
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-28
Updated: 2017-12-28
Packaged: 2019-02-23 06:06:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13183941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/to_new_mutiny/pseuds/to_new_mutiny
Summary: “Finn, I realised-” he began, and could have cried at the look in Finn’s eyes as he met his gaze, “-I’ve been fighting for the Resistance for most of my life. But- I’ve always fought it only to take down the First Order, to bring low everything I hate. But there’s so much more now, Finn, so much more that I can fight for. Not just to destroy the things I hate… but- to save the things I love.”A rewrite of the ski-speeder scene (you know the one)(spoilers for TLJ)





	Put your lips on mine (and love the aftertaste)

Outside the hangar, on the bitter salt plains of Crait, a storm was brewing, harsh winds ripping up the white skin of the planet to bare the bloody bones beneath.

Inside, things weren’t much better. The darkened and stained walls of the hideout rang with desperation, the tiny remainder of the Resistance penned within the hangar like a pack of sintaril in a trap. Seven-year-old Poe had witnessed this once, out on a patrol to check on the flocks of whisper birds with his papa- the confusion and panic of the trapped rodents, and then, as their situation became clear to them, the eventual gory bloodbath as each turned on the other, had lodged itself in his young mind. There was nothing he could have done then, but now-

The discovery of the ski-speeders did little to raise his spirits. Whilst they were sufficiently small that they could evade the AT-ATs if close enough, and strike at the siege cannon, they had limited firepower and were so rickety that one good blast might do them in. But they might buy time, enough for some of their allies to bring reinforcements, or, if the worst happened, enough to allow the General and her Command to escape.

The thought blindsided Poe, momentarily stopping him in his tracks. _What Command does she have?_ Most of her Admirals and tacticians had been on the bridge at the fateful strike, and of those that had survived, only two had made it from the desperate flight to Crait. Statura, Ematt, Ackbar- all were gone.

_How can we rebuild, when our very foundations are razed to the ground?_

“Poe!”

He shook off the thought at a shout from Finn, who was jogging across the hangar towards him, Rose at his side.

“Hey, buddies, what is it?”

It was Rose who replied, mouth drawn tight with concern. “Do we have enough speeders for all the pilots? Enough in working condition, at least.”

_All the pilots._ Poe’s mind immediately started running through them, ticking them off. _That would be Iolo, Jess, Snap, Karé… and- and…_ He didn’t realise he’d stopped breathing, hands clamped into fists at his side, until his racing mind caught up to the unfinished end of the sentence, and teetered on the precipice; the deaths of all the pilots, _his_ pilots, waiting to close over his head and drown him. His voice, when he answered, sounded bitter and defeated, even to his own ears.

“More than enough. We could do with a few more pilots, even.”

Finn and Rose exchanged an unreadable look, and Finn stepped forward, seemingly uncertain.

“We- that is, Rose and me- we could fly the other speeders, if needed. I mean, we’re not part of the squadrons, but– “

“There are no more squadrons, Finn,” Poe cut in, softly, “and we need all the help we can get. Take-off’s in five.” He paused, unsure of how to proceed, then pulled first Rose, then Finn, into a long hug (if he lingered a little, savouring the warmth of Finn’s palms on his back, Poe would never admit it).

He chanced a look at Finn’s face as he pulled back, and the calm, steady intensity of his gaze was almost too much to bear. Poe ducked his head, and mumbled, “May the Force be with you,” before turning quickly away, desperately trying to forget how good it had felt to hold Finn close. Down that route madness lay- he would have to be blind to not notice the way Rose and Finn had held hands ever since they’d arrived- and he could not afford himself the time to dwell on it now.

(Later, Poe decided. When this was all over ( _if it is **ever** all over_, he thought), he would find a quiet corner and get solidly, blissfully drunk, and try and forget a brilliant smile and warm, dark eyes.)

-

The squeal of rusty gears grated loudly in his ears as he watched the hangar door slowly slide upwards. Every sound and motion seemed magnified, the pre-flight adrenaline battling Poe’s bone-deep exhaustion to leave him almost painfully on edge. He was hyperaware to every detail, the moment almost frozen in time: the rough, rusty grip of the controls beneath his fingers, the musty smell of the speeder’s cockpit, and the glaring white shimmer of the salt plains beyond the hangar door. His pulse beat a rapid tattoo beneath his skin.

As soon as the hangar door was raised enough, Poe sent the ‘speeder rocketing forwards, the propulsion engines sputtering and wheezing abominably, but holding firm. On either side, Finn, Rose and what remained of the Resistance’s pilots fanned out behind him, keeping tight formation. They were only 13 in total, not even enough for a standard squadron, but he felt his nerves settle at the familiarity of it all, the rush that only flight gave him smoothing out discrepancies- the unfamiliar controls and BB-8’s absence- that would have otherwise troubled him.

Then he allowed the stabiliser strut to touch down on the planet’s surface, and all sense of familiarity was lost.

The other speeders came down around him with loud thumps, rocking as their pilots desperately tried to adapt to the drag of the strut on the ground. Ground fire from the Resistance troops blasted past the cockpit, crashing against the legs of the AT-ATs with all the effectiveness of a wave on a cliff-face, and the scream of the TIEs’ ion engines was deafening overhead as they blasted at a speeder to Poe’s right.

This wasn’t going to work; he could see that. Barely 5 minutes into the flight, and they were already 2 speeders down. It would take a miracle for any of them to reach the cannon intact.

“All teams-” Poe began, ready to call off the flight, to retreat and plan again, when there came a boom from overhead, followed by the fiery splinters of a TIE crashing to the ground around him. He craned his neck to peer through the dirty plexiglass of the cockpit, just in time to catch the distinctive shape of the _Falcon_ soaring above, shooting down two other TIEs on her tail and looping back around to catch a third. Poe’s comms were filled with cheers from the other pilots as the entire battalion of TIEs peeled off, one by one, to trail after the _Falcon_ as it crested a mountain on the edge of the salt-plain and disappeared from view. Exhilaration briefly filled him, and he too whooped as he watched the last TIE soar off in pursuit. _Maybe we **can** do this_.

And then he turned his attention back to the amassed forces of the Order ahead of him, and felt his stomach drop as far and as fast as the spiralling wreckage of that first TIE fighter.

The cannon was heating up, the core beginning to glow a vicious yellow as the giant machine thrummed into life. It would be ready to fire in a matter of seconds, and no speeder would be able to withstand it, let alone come close enough to destroy it.

_I’ve failed._

“Squadron, retreat! That thing’s gonna fire any minute now!”

Affirmatives from his pilots came over the comms, as speeders to either side of him juddered to a halt, and wheeled unsteadily round to head back to the hideout. Rose on his right was one of the last to do so, sketching a salute to him as she passed by. He nodded back, doing one last sweep of the horizon to make sure nobody was left behind.

_Surely that must be all of the-_

_Kriff._

Just up ahead, a solitary craft, weaving its way towards the cannon, which thrummed alarmingly as the air around it wavered in the intense heat.

“Pilot, turn around now! It’s a suicide run; you’ll never get close enough!”

And a heartbreakingly familiar voice crackled over the comms, steady and sure as ever.

“ _I’ve gotta do this, Poe, I can make it, I’m nearly there- “_

“Finn!” Poe yelled, as the connection cut off, and as the cannon fired in a searing explosion so loud it was soundless, bright as a miniature sun.

Poe blinked rapidly, trying to wipe the afterimage from his eyes, his lips forming desperate pleas that might have been _no, no, not Finn,_ but were silent in the devastating aftermath. Something warm trickled from his left ear.

He didn’t know if he could bear to look, so certain that he’d see the charred wreckage of Finn’s speeder. Yet, miraculously, it was still there, pushing through the ray of the cannon like a fish swimming against the tide. But even from this distance, Poe could make out the trembling in the craft’s frame, small shudders that would soon rapidly shake it apart under the intense heat of the beam. He yelled, or thought he did, over the comms, begging Finn to _turn back_ , _please, Maker, he was going to **die** -_

Poe yanked his speeder up sharply, pulling in the stabiliser strut so he could remain airborne, and bringing the craft to glide just above the beam. Finn was getting closer to the cannon, but the speeder was slowing, as if moving through treacle. _He’s going to die trying to do this_.

_But I won’t let him_.

The angle was right; he would make it in time. Poe pointed the nose of the speeder towards Finn’s, and slammed on the propulsion.

He heard, or maybe felt, the crunch as the crafts collided, and a blast of heat, then nothing.

-

Everything around him was swaying slightly. Poe imagined he was back at the ranch on Yavin IV, lying in the branches of the Force Tree and feeling the wind rock the bough he was resting on. The thought brought a smile to his face.

_Was the sky on Yavin IV always so blue?_

“-Poe? Can you hear me?... Poe!”

The blurry shape above him resolved itself into Finn, crouched over him. Poe smiled blearily up at him. _He’s alive._

_But how can **I** be?_ The collision alone should have killed him, never mind the resulting explosion. His mind flinched away from the memory of scorching heat whirling through the cockpit. _Definitely dead, then_ , he concluded. _Or maybe I’m dreaming_.

Finn was saying something, worry creasing his brow. Poe wanted to reach up and smooth the lines away, but forced himself to focus on Finn’s words.

“- why? Why did you do that, Poe? Please, please, just say something, speak to me…” he was whispering hoarsely, clutching Poe’s hand in one of his own. His grip was tight, the palm of his hand warm and slightly rough, and something caught in Poe’s throat at the sight of their two hands intertwined. _Just tell him_.

“Finn, I realised-” he began, and could have cried at the look in Finn’s eyes as he met his gaze, “-I’ve been fighting for the Resistance for most of my life. But- I’ve always fought it only to take down the First Order, to bring low everything I hate. But there’s so much _more_ now, Finn, so much more that I can fight for. Not just to destroy the things I hate… but- to save the things I love.”

And the sky was so _absurdly_ blue above him, and the glaring white plains so surreal in their perfection, that he could only be dreaming, or dead, and none of this could possibly be real. So it was only with the slightest tinge of guilt that Poe leant up to press his lips against Finn’s, before collapsing back into the cockpit as the blackness swept up and overwhelmed him once more.

-

Poe woke to the clean, surgical smell of bacta, and the comforting hum of a ship in hyperspace. _Guess I can’t have been dead after all._ He looked around, taking in the narrow bunk, the worn walls of the ship, and the figure slumped over in a chair by the side of his bed. The lighting was low, but he could still make out the familiar lines of Finn’s face, soft with sleep. The sight brought a faint smile to Poe’s lips, the parallels with himself waiting by Finn in the medbay not lost on him.

As though he had sensed Poe waking, Finn began to stir, covering his mouth to disguise a yawn as he pushed himself upright. The sleepy, relaxed movements made such a contrast to the last time Poe had seen him that he couldn’t help but stare slightly, as mesmerised by him as he had been from the moment Finn removed his helmet and told him he was being rescued.

Finn stretched, letting out a soft groan of satisfaction, before he turned to face Poe, who hurriedly tried to pretend that he hadn’t been staring at Finn ever since he woke up. It was unsurprisingly difficult.

“Hey,” Finn murmured, a soft smile on his face “you’re looking better already. Better than when I last saw you, I mean.”

“So are you,” Poe replied, then pulled up short as his mind reminded him of exactly _what_ had happened the last time he’d seen Finn. Finn, crouched over Poe in the wreckage of the speeder, and… _oh kriff_. _It was real. It was real and I kissed him and told him that I love him_. A small, selfish part of him wished he could turn back time, somehow, and prevent himself from speaking those fateful words, because there was _no way_ Finn could reciprocate his feelings, not with the way he talked about Rey, or held Rose’s hand. But he wouldn’t do that to Finn, not to the man who saved him and deserved, more than anyone, to hear the truth.

Finn leant forward, resting an elbow on the edge of the bed. He seemed reluctant to speak, throat visibly working around words that didn’t make it out. “Why did you do that, Poe?” he asked eventually, voice quiet.

Poe suddenly found it difficult to meet Finn’s gaze, but forced himself to do so anyway. Finn’s face revealed nothing, closed-off in a way Poe had never seen before. _Shit_.

“Listen, Finn… I’m sorry. I get that you’re probably in love with Rose, or maybe Rey, and yeah I do have feelings for you, but I shouldn’t have acted on them like that, because it put you in an uncomfortable position, and obviously I don’t want to come between you and whoever it is you love- “

“Whoah, whoah, buddy, slow down, ok?” Finn interjected, moving to place his hands over Poe’s, which he realised he had been waving about frantically, “I didn’t mean about the kiss, although yes we _are_ gonna need to talk about that, but- why did you crash your speeder into mine? You could have _died_.”

“Well, while we’re at it, why didn’t you stop? You could have died too,” Poe returned.

“Don’t be glib with me, Dameron, I’m mad at you,” Finn huffed, looking as though he was trying to suppress a smile. “But really though, why? The Resistance _needs_ you, you nerfherder.”

“We need _you_ too, Finn. I mean, come on, the first Stormtrooper to ever defect, a brilliant strategist _and_ the best gunner I’ve ever met? And don’t think we haven’t heard that you nearly got those ‘troopers to defect on the _Supremacy_ , Rose told me all about it. With that… with _you_ , buddy, we could win the war,” Poe said, low and earnest. For much of his life, Poe had defined himself by the things he held faith in. The Force had always been one of them, his parents and the General likewise. And now Finn.

Who was opening his mouth, looking as though he were about to deny it. And then closed it, a frown on his face. “You really think so?”

“Buddy, I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t believe it. I- look, when you broke me out of that prison cell, I admit that at first, I wasn’t going to trust you. But then you took off your helmet, looked me in the eyes, and told me that it was a rescue. And that you were saving me- because it was the right thing to do. And I knew, then and there, that I’d follow you to the ends of the galaxy, because you believed so strongly in what was right that no-one could tell you otherwise- and how could anyone resist following the man who not only knows right from wrong, but acts on it, no matter the odds?”

Poe’s voice had grown more and more hoarse towards the end of the sentence, and he broke off, coughing and turning his head away so he wouldn’t have to see Finn’s expression. _That’s at least the second time you’ve bared your kriffing soul to him today, Dameron, give it a rest_.

He could see Finn watching him closely out of the corner of his eye, and saw the moment that _something_ clicked in his mind. “So, about that kiss.”

_Kriff._ “Yes?” Poe replied, hoping his voice came out steadier than he was currently feeling. It wavered a little, and he cursed under his breath. _No need to start crying now. Save it for **after** the man you’re in love with rejects you._

“I have to ask- what in the name of the _Force_ did you think you were doing?” Poe tried to get something out, an apology perhaps, but Finn continued relentlessly. “You can’t just- save someone’s life, and then kiss them in the most dramatic way possible, and then just fall unconscious! _Maker_ , Poe, I thought you were _dead_ , and that you chose your last words to be a confession of your love, I- you can’t just do that, Poe, because then how could _I_ ever tell _you_ that I love you?”

Poe’s entire thought process stumbled to a halt, so caught up on the quiet anger in Finn’s tone that he nearly missed the end of the sentence. “You- you love me?” he asked, latching onto the words like a drowning man clutching at a raft.

Finn’s entire demeanour softened, and he moved to crouch by the side of the bed, locking his gaze with Poe’s. “Yes, you unbelievable nerfherder, I love you. I maybe didn’t realise as much until today, when… I thought you’d died, trying to save me.” The last few words were choked out, and Finn ducked his head a moment before continuing. When he looked up, his eyes were bright. “Please, Poe, promise me, never do that again.”

Poe chuckled, the sound suspiciously watery. “Well, I can’t promise to never try and save your life again – but,” he continued hurriedly at Finn’s raised eyebrow, “no more dramatics, I’ll say that much.”

Finn smiled, shaking his head. “No more dramatics. I’ll hold you to that, flyboy.” His grin softened a little, becoming almost unbearably fond as he moved to rest a hand against Poe’s cheek. “Force, I love you.”

“I love you too,” Poe murmured into the scant distance between them, before leaning in to capture Finn’s lips in a lingering, unhurried kiss.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Ok so I wasn't very happy with how this turned out and I edited it over three cups of coffee, so please feel free to leave concrit etc. in the comments. Other comments and kudos are also greatly appreciated!
> 
> A quick note- the scene I mentioned where Finn almost convinces some stormtroopers to defect was nearly canon, but didn't make the final cut for whatever bs reasons Rian Johnson had. Also this film disappointed me and I want to rewrite 90% of it.


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